Subject to Recall
by Starbucks3894
Summary: Genres say it all. The hurt/comfort that comes with a family of this kind. Lame title, itty drabble. Read it anyway. :


**A tiny little drabble I wrote, but was too embarrassed to put up. I need to get over it though, so here it is. Please NO FLAMES! Just positive words of encouragement or advice.**

**And I'm not entirely sure how the title fits in with all this. Maybe because I'm subject to recall it any day now? Eh, thought not. XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own BTR.**

I don't know if it would be considered normal for a teenage boy to sleep upside down, hanging from the bars of his bed, nearly every night there isn't a thunderstorm, at which time he is bolt upright screaming his head off. Judging from the shocked reactions of everyone but us, probably not.

I don't know if it would be considered normal for a teenage boy to carry around a mini geometry book in his pocket every day, to refer to it for "practical applications", or to shriek and jump up and down in a rather amusing, terrified sort of way whenever you grabbed it from him and dangled it out the window. And now judging from the looks of "Are they insane?", I would reckon it's not.

I don't know if it would be considered normal for a teenage boy to have animated conversations with his reflection on a daily basis. I know for a fact, and by all things not completely loopy, that it is NOT. And by the way he looks all guilty whenever I catch him at it.

I don't know if it would be considered normal to have a saint for a brother, who is constantly getting cooed over by a mom who loves us both to death, but who expects more from him than she ever would from me. Because he's an average, ordinary, every-day superhero. Or at least I used to think he was. Until I discovered he was human, didn't have any powers, and didn't have a red cape hanging in a secret nook in his closet.

I don't know if this life I'm leading would be considered normal by anyone but me. I don't even know if I'm normal. I just know I'm usually overlooked. Which makes it easy to steal cookie dough, do the puppy-dog eyes, and blame it on Kendall.

I don't know if my mom would rather replace me with some other Barbie-doll playing, dress-up cootie carrier because I can never get anything from her face. She hides it way too well. I've told her before she should be a con-man, fighting for the side of good. Then we could be butt-kicking, evil fighters together. But she just smiles, and says "OK. Yeah. We'll see."

I do know I can win a five-card stud, have NEVER lost a game of poker, and will never "play" with anyone under the age of eighteen. You know, to prevent liabilities.

I know that I'm cute. Because that's all people notice. I wish I was hardcore, with tattoos and battle scars. But mom won't let me get a paper cut without considering stitches, and if I ever got a tattoo, she would probably cut it off me. You can try and wrap your mind around that contradiction. Try being the operative word.

I know that I'm not perfect, and this whole Hollywood and fame thing isn't gonna last forever. I know I will eventually have to go back home, if only to get my feet on the ground and set off on my own. No-one thinks I will. We'll see.

Sometimes I feel so rushed. Like I was thrown into this whole thing. I'm happy, because, they're happy. They are pretty much my world, you know. I have no life. I am living their dream.

Sounds harsh? I'm taking drama classes at school. Maybe I'll be an actress. Eh, probably not.

But what I do know is what I don't know. I don't know anything useful. Anything practical. I'm pretty bright and could be a straight B student if I tried. But I don't. Math and reading, psh! What the heck do those have to do with real life? Those things don't matter. Real life lessons, that's what I need. But mom won't let me ditch school. She still thinks it serves some kind of purpose. Like somehow, I'll turn out OK if I just keep on with the books.

Just go with the flow. Everything will turn out alright. Keep telling yourself that, Katie. Maybe, if you wish enough, it'll come true.

Except wishing is for babies and crack heads. I'm self-reliant. I don't need anyone. Except the guys and mom. Six people. Heck, we could conquer the world together. I know we could. I should tell Carlos that. He'll get the stars in his eyes again. I like watching him with the stars in his eyes. It's interesting.

I don't why I'm even typing this. It's really dumb and boring for a blog, stupid and mushy. And I want to delete it. Right now. But I can't. It's like saying, or, erm, TYPING this stuff gets it off my mind. The fact that I have to grow up so quick. It makes me nervous, you know? Like, how am I gonna do in high school? Or college? People think I only think about how pranks and gambling, but really I think more about what's to come than any of that. It irks me.

It's like things were so much more simple before all of this. You get up in the morning and you go to school, where you know everyone and every routine, and no tree was unfamiliar. The air was cold, and life was basic. You knew what was gonna happen the next day. Boring. But safe. And I KNOW I have mom and Kendall and I don't need to worry. But maybe there are some things they won't be able to protect me from. Not they can hold me back much longer ANYWAY, but you know.

But no matter how rushed I feel, no matter how I want to just disappear, all I have to do is look at the guys. They're happy. like more happy then they ever were In Minnesota. I guess that's all I need. I can live my own life when I'm older, and I can make my own choices, without mom hanging over me wiping away all the mistakes I make. Ha. Yeah, that sounds about right. So till I can find time to grow up, or till I come undone, I'll just go with it. Kendall's listening to that song on his stereo. It's much too cliche for me.

ANYWAY, Carlos just dumped his juice over my head because I slapped him for disturbing my writing meditation with his obnoxious behavior. So I gotta go punch him now. Or dump his stuffed puppy down the garbage disposal. Later.

**Thanks for reading. If you're thinking about pressing that "Add to Favorites" option below, and I don't know if you are or why you would, BUT why don't you go a little to the right and click that OTHER button. You know the one with "review" on it? :D You know you wanna.**

**xoxoxoxoxo**

**~Starbucks**


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